After minutes of uncomfortable shifting, a pillow suddenly hit him square in the head. Ehlian jolted upright and looked up.Hayce was calmly taking another sip of his drink, still absorbed in his book.
Ehlian let out a frustrated grunt, stuffing the pillow beneath his head and turning his back to the alpha.
Just one year. Nothing more.
But deep down, he knew one thing: he wouldneverobey him.
Chapter 2
Ehlian stood out like a sore thumb.
He kept to himself, eating alone every day at the small table tucked away in the far corner of the lounge.
Lounge. There wasn’t a better word for it. Despite the lack of a bar, the space was littered with worn-down sofas and armchairs arranged haphazardly around battered tables. A few board games hung crookedly on the walls, their pieces long since lost or broken. At the far end of the room, a holographic movie looped endlessly, playing the same feature day after day. No one cared enough to watch it. Most inmates passed right through its projection as if it didn’t exist.
It hadn’t taken Ehlian long to understand the unspoken hierarchy here: you either belonged to a pack, or you belonged to no one. And those left on their own had no protection.
He watched the other omegas with a sickening feeling. Many knelt at an alpha’s feet, obedient and small, their heads bowed or resting against their alpha’s knee. Some sat pressed tightly beside their alphas, the alphas’ hands firmly on their thighs or waists. A claim of ownership.
Ehlian refused to let himself be reduced to that.
So far, the alphas had left him alone, but their gazes burned with heavy hunger, watching him like prey. It felt like he was ondisplay—alphas placing their bets, fighting for the right to claim him.
No one unsettled him more than Grasson.
The man was built like a fortress, veins bulging across his thick neck and arms. His grey uniform strained against his hulking frame, threatening to tear at any moment. Grasson didn’t bother hiding his interest. His look was razor-sharp, heavy with greed. It made the blood in Ehlian’s veins run cold.
Ehlian’s eyes slid to Hayce.
Unlike the others, the alpha never spared him a glance. Hayce barely acknowledged him at all. He never spoke to him, never laid a hand on him, not even in the tight quarters of their shared cell.
Yet somehow, he was still the most dangerous alpha in the prison.
Hayce’s pack was the largest by far. It wasn’t hard to see why. Anyone with a shred of self-preservation would align themselves with a fallen heir, a man who oozed power in every step, every word. His influence stretched far beyond his exile.
Ehlian absently turned the thin band strapped to his wrist. Every prisoner wore one, an irremovable reminder of their captivity. The device suppressed their powers, rendering them nearly helpless. Thinner mental shields. Weaker counterattacks.
Omegas like Ehlian felt it most acutely. Losing his telepathic ability was more than just an inconvenience. It was like losing a limb, or forgetting how to breathe. His power wasn’t entirely throttled, but cutting it off completely would be equivalent to death.
With the band restricting him, there was almost nothing he could do telepathically. If he tried, it would zap him. But Hayce? It was obvious his band had been tampered with. His full power hummed beneath the surface, uncontrolled.
Money, influence, and class had bought the asshole immunity.
Ehlian hated his kind.
Unable to stomach the stares any longer, Ehlian kept his head low and wished the hours would pass faster.
Thoughts of his ex, Geald, pushed to the surface.
He hated that he still missed him.
It was pathetic missing someone who’d thrown him aside the moment the guilty verdict was read, someone unwilling to bear the shame of being associated with an omega criminal. The proud asshole hadn’t even had the decency to say goodbye.
Yet in the sterile coldness of the prison, Ehlian held on to the memories of warm touches, soft words, the illusion of love. But now, it was painfully clear that none of it had been real.
His brooding was interrupted when an alpha dropped heavily into the chair across from him.
“You’ve got three days left,” the alpha said almost conversationally, but his eyes were unusually sharp. “Choose your pack wisely.”
